"You have to be perfect." the voice in her head was shrieking at this point. Quinn stood before her full-length mirror, wearing just a tank-top and her underwear. She lifted the shirt up over her ribs and glared at the fat still hanging off of her rib bones and hipbones. She was disgusting. This is why Finn didn't want her. This is why Puck didn't want her. This is why no one wanted her. She was a walking piece of lard. It was past midnight and her stomach was growling, reminding her that he hadn't eaten in 52 hours. She picked at the skin on her stomach, cursing silently. She had caved in and had some of her mom's pasta with white sauce, but quickly got rid of the meal as soon as she could. She felt guilty about it, and it hurt her teeth, but she had to do it. Perfection. That's what she was aiming for. And she would stop at nothing until she achieved it. Quinn pulled the electronic scale out from under her bed and stepped on it, gaping at the number. Ninety-nine. She was both disgusted and pleased with herself. Disgusted that she was this underweight, please that she was finally under that gruesome triple digit number. She dove underneath the covers after switching off her light. Silent tears slid onto her pillowcase as she drifted off to sleep. Her sleep was restless, tossing and turning all night. She slept right through her alarm, and her mom didn't even come upstairs and wake her. Quinn's eyes lazily opened at around eleven thirty. She glanced at her nightstand in horror until she saw the glass of water and a small post-it note attached.
You seemed ill last night, so I let you sleep.
I love you.
-Mom
Quinn smiled and took a few sips of water before grabbing her phone. She scrolled only a little bit until she found Blaine's name. After shooting the boy a quick text, asking him to bring her the Chemistry homework she missed, she burrowed back into her cave of warmth and drifted back to sleep. About two hours later, Quinn woke up. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and slipped into her favorite sweatpants and sweatshirt. With once last glance at her alarm clock, she made her way downstairs, thankful that her mom was at work and would be until at least 8:30. Quinn curled up on the couch with her favorite movie: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Around four, her doorbell rang. Quinn was making a list in her mind of who it could have been at the door when she opened it to Blaine. Chemistry homework, she recognized to herself.
"Hey, I brought your homework from all your other classes." he held up a tote bag from the local grocery store and smiled.
"Thanks, Blaine." she grabbed the bag and went to shut the door.
"Quinn, wait." he said and Quinn opened the door again. "Look, everyone in Glee is worried. You're... you're not yourself. What's going on?"
The girl sighed, growing frustrated with the boy, "If something was wrong, I'd come to you guys. I'm just stressed, okay?"
Blaine smiled sadly and nodded, "You're right. I'm sorry. Get better, Quinn." his voice was dripping with sincerity and Quinn wondered briefly for a moment if he knew. She waved the thought away seconds later, realizing it was impossible. Quinn smiled at Blaine while he darted back to the driveway where he left his car running. She sighed and pulled herself back into the house, ready to start on her homework for the day. It didn't take her long, Quinn was a smart girl and understood a lot quickly. When she finished her homework, it was nearing five. Maybe I should eat. No. You don't need that greasy food your mother hoards in the fridge. You're still not good enough. Why are you so stupid, Quinn? The voice raged in her head. Quinn held back tears as she raced up the stairs to avoid dinner. Again. This had become her routine every night. Her mom worked odd hours in the evening, so it was painfully easy for her to avoid dinner time like the plague. She paced her room in anxiety for what seemed like days, but really was only an hour and a half. Six-thirty. It was far too early for bed, and since she had slept most of the day away, sleep was just not an option right now. She changed into a pair of running shorts and an old t-shirt before heading to the basement where their workout room was. Putting on her favorite mixed CD, she hopped on the treadmill and just walked. She had absolutely zero energy for the day to run, and walking seemed safe. She was light-headed towards the end, but she knew it was because she had control. More control to be more perfect. Nothing was going to stop her from reaching her goal. Perfection. If she couldn't have anything else, not the guy, not the talent, she'd be that perfect girl.